


What A Lovely Way to Burn

by latinaeinstein (oneforyourfire)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/latinaeinstein
Summary: This is probably a mistake





	What A Lovely Way to Burn

**Author's Note:**

> 2014 fic
> 
> girl fic with girl names

This is probably stupid. A _mistake_.

In the soft afternoon light of her college dorm room, Joonmi shrugs off her cardigan. She smiles as she tilts her chin up to look at Tao from beneath her dark eyelashes—you’re so _little_ , unnie, Tao has teased; you’re so _little_ , unnie, Joonmi has resented. Her golden hair glows in the soft pink haze as it cascades down her side, and her plush bottom lip is red and bitten, caught between her straight, white teeth. She’s so _beautiful_.

And no it’s _definitely_ stupid, _definitely_ a mistake. Tao knows it for a _fact_.

But Joonmi, Joonmi is so beautiful and so persuasive and so warm and so _perfect_ —offering this—and Tao wants. She just fucking _wants_.

Joonmi’s fingers thread through hers, pulling until the back of her knees hit her twin mattress. And then she’s dragging her further onto her paisley print comforter, smile soft and reassuring. And the peek of pale thigh—the sliver of skin between the top of her socks and the bottom of her skirt—as she moves back has Tao swallowing _hard_ , biting back a moan, choking back a reckless confession right then and there.

It’s a mistake, and her heart stutters with the realization, rhythm suddenly sporadic and loud— _so_ loud—as it drops to somewhere near her belly.

Joonmi drags her thumb across Tao’s knuckles before letting go of her hand. And Tao lets it lay limply at her side. With her other hand, she tugs at the hemline of her skirt, fusses over clothes.

Joonmi’s hand comes back, to cup her chin, force her gaze upwards. “You’re nervous,” she observes, and Tao murmurs out a protest. “This is still—it’s the same thing as before, okay? If you don’t want to—this is about _you_ , Tao. Do you still want to…?”

Tao doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she leans forward with a nod instead. Her eyes trained on Joonmi’s collarbone, swallowing thickly as her fingers graze the swell of breast beneath Joonmi’s white polo. Joonmi lets out this soft sound but doesn’t make to pull back. And Tao becomes bolder, cupping fully. Joonmi presses back against the weight of her palm.

Joonmi tucks Tao’s hair behind her ear, fingers lingering to ghost over her cheekbone, whisper over her lips. They part with a soft gasp, and Joonmi holds her gaze as the pad of her thumb drags along the slickness of her pink lipgloss. Her eyes are heavy with the question, as if it weren’t already clear, as if they haven’t indulged this in the past, talked this through.

“We can help you figure it out, my little Taozi,” Joonmi had whispered just three months ago, solemn and understanding and accepting after Joonmi’s roommate had shuffled out in apology to give them privacy. And Tao had _cried_ on her, Korean clumsy and thick as she'd confessed to it _almost_. With too many qualifiers, too many asterisks about how she felt _wrong_ because of this, and maybe—maybe but she was scared. She was so _scared_. She kind of wanted it to go away, but she didn’t—she didn’t want to lie to herself, lie to Joonmi about _this_. "You’re not _wrong_ ,” Joonmi had insisted. “But we'll help you figure it out, okay?” Because Joonmi is nothing if not kind, nothing if not practical. “You’ve been hurting while I’ve been away,” she’d murmured, “but we’ll make it better.”

Tao had refused to let go, pressing her teary face to Joonmi’s chest, hiccuping through a sob as she’d inhaled the comforting cherry blossom scent of Joonmi’s perfume. And it was too much already—so overwhelming—so she’d let the other half of the confession, the almost scarier half, the one that maybe she _loved_ —Joonmi, wither on her tongue as she’d been held.

“I sometimes,” Joonmi had laughed later, petting Tao’s black hair back as they’d tangled themselves into her cramped mattress, all wandering fingers and sharp elbows. “Sometimes I think maybe—I, _too_. So we can, you know— can—it’s only weird if we make it weird. Only heavy if we make it heavy.” And Tao had wondered if her heartbeat was as disconcertingly loud as she imagined it to be. At the not weird but _wonderful_ , perfect prospect of everything Tao has ever wanted, wanting her back.

But it’s an experiment, after all. Mutually beneficial but more than anything for _Tao’s_ sake. And maybe Tao’s heart _is_ way too heavy, too full, almost collapsing under the weight of all the feelings she has for Joonmi. But it's fine. She's fine. She can settle. She can delineate. She can compartmentalize. Sort out her attraction. Even learn to get Joonmi and herself off without catching feelings. Without wanting more. She _can_.

Because they’ve been flirting with this too long. Acting out in parts since Tao’s confession. And Tao has been _wanting_ this for even longer, and she doesn’t—she doesn’t want to stop. It’s a mistake, but there’s no question about how much she wants this. It’s a mistake, but it’s probably the best one she’ll ever make. Tao is tired of her denying herself, as she kneels on Joonmi’s bed, meets her eyes.

Tao drags her thumb experimentally, and Joonmi’s chest trembles with a sudden soft gasp. Tao’s head tilts forward to mouth along her jawline, inhaling deeply, moaning at the first taste, but Joonmi twists her fingers into her hair, drags her into a kiss.

It’s soft, sweet, reassuring, in contrast to the sharp, unforgiving tilt of Joonmi’s grip. Tao’s free hand falls to Joonmi’s waist, tugging her even closer, thigh to thigh, chest to chest, as the other hand—the hand still cupping—trapped between their bodies squeezes, gropes hard. She swallows Joonmi’s soft moan.

Tao sucks on her bottom lip, licks at the roof of Joonmi’s mouth, and Joonmi shifts, hand wrapping around the nape of her neck, tongue chasing her out. As her own tongue makes it way its inside her mouth, painting over her teeth, dragging along hers. She deepens it further, but keeps it slow, succulent, overwhelmingly passionate. (Joonmi probably doesn’t know how to kiss like she doesn’t love her back).

Tao falls back to tug her into her lap, and Joonmi’s hair falls in her face, a warm, strawberry-scented curtain as Tao mouths at her neck, licking over a mole where she’s extra sensitive. Joonmi grinds down with a helpless gasp, and Tao’s body overheats with arousal, with need.

This is hardly their first time making out. But it always ends when Tao is too affected, when her hands get her too eager, her lips too demanding, and Joonmi freezes in her arms. Pulling away to kiss at her chin, coaxing her into something languid and lazy until Tao’s calmed down and they’re barely kissing at all. But this time—this time, Joonmi’s roommate is staying at her boyfriend’s and Tao is on spring break, brought an overnight bag—and they can really, really try.

Tao pulls away to pant against Joonmi’s throat, groan out a breathy “unnie please.”

Joonmi braces herself on Tao’s shoulders as she continues to drag forward insistently. And the pressure relieves some of the ache between her thighs.

“Again,” she urges into Joonmi’s neck, sucking careless, possessive marks, panting into the soft skin as Joonmi grinds forward. The friction has Tao jerking weakly, kissing sloppily as she moans desperately for more and harder. It’s not enough. It’ll probably never be enough.

“Please," she insists. "Please—please let me—please—I want—”

“What do you want?” Joonmi manages, voice all raspy, lips all slick, eyes all dark. “What do you want to do, Tao?”

Joonmi’s breathing is erratic and her expression almost hungry. But the question is clinical, matter of fact. As if Joonmi is just a standin, just _some_ girl that Tao only hypotethicaly wants. Just _somebody_ , this moment just _something_. Not _everything_.

And there’s a painful jolt, a realization twisting in Tao’s gut. And it’s almost cruel, Tao thinks, allowing herself this indulgence. Stupid. A mistake. But Tao is selfish in the moment. Heedless. Desperate. She wants to gorge herself on forbidden fruit, ache in the aftermath. Because it’s here. It’s hers for the taking. And Tao had been fucked as soon as Joonmi had kissed her back.

Tao tangles her fingers in Joonmi’s hair, pants out the words against her open, trembling, slick, red red lips. “I want to eat you out.”

Joonmi’s head lolls forward as her eyelashes flutter, and Tao can count every individual clump of mascara, every speck of gold in her large eyes. Joonmi’s lips part and her eyebrows furrow and she’s _affected_. Tao is drunk with it.

“You want that?” Joonmi breathes. Words soft, but exhalations hard through her mouth.

Tao nods furiously, bangs falling in her eyes. And Joonmi’s fingers are there again, tucking it back. “Yes—I—is that is that okay?”

“Yes just—”

Joonmi falls back, out of her hungry grasp, to tug off her clothes. Her shirt gets caught in her arms, and Tao lets her hand’s trace along the waistband of her skirt as Joonmi disentangles herself with a soft noise. She bites on her lower lip all the while—until it’s almost white—as she peels off her skirt. She makes to take off her socks, but Tao shakes her head. Joonmi smirks even as she taps her fingers nervously against the soft concave dip of her belly.

They’ve changed in front of each other, but this is—this is different.

Tao’s eyes are hungry, heavy as they drink in the lean, soft expanse of pale, pale skin, hidden away by thin strips of fabric—a polka dot push up with the most dizzying display of cleavange, matching high cut panties that curve obscenely over the swell of her ass. It’s different because Tao is allowed to _take_. And Tao wants to trace the blue of her veins with her tongue, watch her flush with color, bloom with sweat. She wants Joonmi to melt into her mouth.

But she doesn’t know how to ask for that. Ask for permission to kiss every inch of skin until it's burned on her lips, on her tongue. Doesn’t know how to ask to worship her body, trace her like braille, paint soft breathy confessions onto every inch of trembling flesh. Because everything is soft, warm, curved, perfect. _Beautiful_. And it— _she_ —deserves to be worshiped.

But instead Tao watches, hovering over her with, thighs bracketing Joonmi’s hips, fingers tense at her side, as Joonmi smiles up at her, holds up her arms to urge her down.

Tao falls on her eagerly.

She almost murmurs how much she wants this as he sucks on the hollow of Joonmyun’s throats, fingers tracing down her side. How much she’s been dreaming about this—Joonmi’s thighs around her head, Joonmi’s fingers in her hair—getting off so hard on just the thought of Joonmi’s pleasure. But instead she sucks another mark, glides down to nuzzle in between Joonmi’s heaving breasts. And Joonmi’s fingers are there again, running through the black strands, tugging as she moans and Tao works off her bra.

Tao is clumsy but eager—so fucking eager, so fucking turned on—as she laves attention on her dusty pink nipples. She sucks on one and then the other, allows herself to savor the way they harden in her mouth as Joonmyun trembles in her arms. Tao grips her hips to anchor herself as she sucks even harder, and Joonmi jerks. Tao repeats the gesture on the other side, groaning into her skin.

“Sensitive,” Joonmi breathes in apology as she arches. Sharply. Suddenly. “ _Fuck_ , don’t— _Tao_ —I—.”

Tao scrapes her teeth as she drags them in a circuit from left to right, nosing on the underside of Joonmi’s breasts. Manicured nails scrape across Tao’s scalp as Joonmi writhes forward and back, her moans increasingly breathy and broken.

“You like that?” Tao manages against her trembling skin.

Joonmi whimpers in response as Tao’s kisses become more succulent, her sucks more demanding.

“Yeah?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Like the way I touch you?”

“Fuck—fuck _yes_.”

Emboldened, Tao smirks as she glides down her body, licking over her bellybutton. One hand snakes down to press against Joonmi’s heat. And Tao rubs her through her panties— _wet_ , wet because of _Tao_ —moans as Joonmi grinds down on her palm. Eager. Hard. Her ribs jut out visibly—sharp—underneath her taut skin as her muscles undulate towards the pressure of Tao’s hand. Tao watches mesmerised as she rocks down needily, moaning with every fluid, desperate grind.

Tao removes her palm after, and Joonmyun lets out this needy whine. Her hand falls to Tao’s face, as she urges her to keep going. Fuck, Tao, she’s so turned on, so fucking _wet_ for her please don’t stop. Please please please don’t.

Tao moans as she falls forward. Nosing at damp cotton, she inhales deeply—the musk of her has Tao’s head reeling—and Joonmi flushes even as she rolls back against the pressure of Tao’s nose, Tao’s open mouth.

“Fuck, I just want to taste you,” Tao says without thinking, dragging the wide of her tongue to collect the moisture clinging to those ruined panties. “ _Fuck_ , I just want to spend the rest of my life with my face buried between your thighs.”

And before she has a chance to regret it, Joonmi is whimpering, bucking upwards with a breathy please. Please taste me please. Fuck, Tao, _fuck_.

Tao peels off her panties with a reverent groan. Because she’s so fucking beautiful, and Tao’s body thrums with how much she wants her. Joonmi’s thumb is dragging across her eyebrow as Tao shifts to make herself comfortable between her thighs.

Joonmi bends her knees, squirms at Tao’s blatant staring. She misinterprets. “I didn’t—not all the way—” Joonmi murmurs softly, motioning to the thin tuft of hair. “I didn’t know you’d want to—I’m sorry if it’s not sexy—if you don’t want—”

But it _is_ , Tao wants to tell her. Every single thing about you. From the mole on your neck to the birthmark on your inner thigh. You’re so devastatingly sexy, Joonmi. Everything I could ever want. I love you so fucking much.

But she settles for hooking her elbows underneath Joonmi’s thighs, tugging her tight to her mouth.

 

Tao doesn’t really know what she’s doing. That’s the point, afterall. She’s _learning_. But she’s been watching a _lot_ of porn, with her heart in her throat and her fingers pressed deep inside. And what Tao lacks in finesse, in technique, she tries to make up for in eagerness, in thoroughness.

She parts delicate, quivering flesh, tastes and tastes and tastes until Joonmi is slick on her chin, hot and tangy on her tongue. It’s everything she’s ever wanted.

And Joonmi’s body responds so recklessly, clenching tight around Tao’s tongue as she tugs on Tao’s hair, forcing her even harder against her, grinding until Tao can’t breathe past the suffocating press of Joonmi’s arousal, before relenting.

Tao introduces her fingers, shifts her attention to lick over the hardened bud of Joonmi’s clit, and Joonmi becomes even more vocal. Face contorting with pleasure, she’s careless, practically screaming her broken praises.

“You’re so amazing—fuck—you’re so amazing and beautiful Tao—I want to keep you—I want to keep you—fuck—I need to—”

She tangles her fingers in Tao’s hair, forces her against her once more as she fucks upward. Tao sputters, and Joonmi pants out an apology. A broken breathy “I’m just—It feels—fuck—please don’t—please don’t _ever_ stop.”

Tao _doesn’t_. Curls her fingers, drags her tongue, and Joonmi’s entire body bows with it as she continues to beg for more.

And it’s such a dizzyingly warm, wet, velvet grip. Vice tight, clenching sporadically as she’s arching and she’s trembling and she’s moaning her name over and over and over again. All broken and breathy and pitched wrong.

And _fuck_ , Joonmi’s coming. Joonmi’s bowing, sobbing Tao’s name as she spams beautifully, wonderfully through orgasm.

But Tao doesn’t stop. Tries to drag it out. She keeps going until Joonmi is begging her to.

 

Tao’s own body burns, _aches_. _Throbbing_ as she sucks at Joomi’s thigh. The skin is flushed, smooth, quivering with the aftershocks.

Tao arches towards the fingers still tangled—weakly—in her hair as she skates her hands down, parting her thighs, reaching underneath her skirt to palm herself through her soaked panties. She’s so turned on. She’s so so needy for it. Rubbing herself furiously, panting into Joonmi’s skin, and Joonmi’s moans are still ringing in her ears, her taste is still thick on her tongue.

“Fuck,” Joonmi breathes as she recovers, sitting up. “Are you fucking—are you touching yourself?”

“Yes,” Tao gasps. Groans, jerks forward when Joomi tugs her upwards, nails scraping at her scalp in their urgency.

Tao kisses her collarbone, her eyelids, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth, and Joonmi’s body is so soft and sated and pliant. _I did that_ , she thinks again, writhing forward into her the heel of her own hand as Joonmi tugs her closer, heavy arms draping across her waist, smoothing over her clothed. _I did that. I made her come. Nobody can take that from me. I made Joonmi come_.

“ _Fuck_ —from—from eating me out,” Joonmi’s hand slides down, teasing over her underwear, too, and Tao whimpers into her bare shoulder. “From—fuck, Tao—let me just—”

And Tao whimpers at her words, the aching pressure against her core, at the suddenly hard grip on her hipbone.

“Let me—just let me—” Joonmi continues, shifting, pressing Tao back into the mattress.

Tao turns her head to avoid Joonmi’s eyes as the elder kneels over her body, tugs off her shirt, her skirt.

“ _Fuck_ , Tao,” she moans, fingers snagging in reverence along the blue lace of Tao’s bra, Tao’s panties.

(It’s not like Tao picked them special. Agonized in the mirror. Frowning at her reflection. Sucking in her tummy. Tugging at the waistband. Turning this way and that. Wanting to just be sexy, beautiful enough for Joonmi to want her back. _Really_ want her back)

She seems to deliberate, hesitate, and Tao doubts. She wants Joonmi. Her wanting Joonmi makes sense, but Joonmi—Joonmi wanting her back. Joonmi wanting to do _this_ for her. There are limits to her kindness. To their friendship and Tao is trying them.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to—” Tao starts to say, but Joonmi cuts her off with a kiss. She tilts her head back, and Tao gasps into her mouth. “You don’t have to feel _obligated_ —” she continues anyway, words slurred and hazy with arousal. “I—I _wanted_ to do that—I _liked_ doing that, but it’s okay if you don’t want to do it back—it’s okay to not want me back—”

“You’re talking because you’re nervous,” Joonmi interrupts, smiles against her cheek. “Don’t be nervous. I was admiring the view, Tao. But just—just let me return the favor, baby girl. I really fucking want to.”

Joonmi skips Tao’s breasts—with a soft dizzy promies of “later, Taozi, I promise, I just want to eat you out so badly right now, want you to come all over my tongue”—goes straight for the prize as she settles between Tao’s legs. Joonmi presses a smirk to the inside of her the inside of her thigh. And there are fingers, small, insistent fingers. Crooking in a waistband, tugging deliberately.

 

And Joonmi, Joonmi’s never done this before either. But there are tears clinging to Tao’s eyelashes, moans puffing out of her lips, tremors cascading through her limbs, and pleasure—white hot pleasure—searing through her veins, nonetheless. Tao sits up to try to watch, between her splayed, trembling knees—catching the darkness of her eyes, the smile glistening on the slickness of her red, red lips—before collapsing back with a helpless whimper of Joonmi’s name.

Her tongue—that warm, wonderful, wet, wet tongue—licks slow, slow, broad and flat. Thorough but teasing as she moans against her. Tao whimpers, begs, and Joonmi is holding her open, holding her vulnerable, long blonde hair whispering along Tao’s thighs as she moves between her locked, trembling knees.

And then she’s closing her mouth around her clit, humming. And everything is the warm, succulent heat of her tongue, her lips, everything is the perfect suction of her mouth, and Tao arches towards it, grinds hard against her, helpless and desperate. And there are fingers pressing inside of her, dragging out waves of staggering pleasure. And Tao is a quivering, moaning mess of broken chants, singing veins, heavy fingertips, skating across her own writhing body, tangling in her own hair.

“Joonmi,” she whimpers at the deliberate, delicate curl of the elder’s tongue—a hard jab that has her jerking with a jolt of pleasure.

“Joonmi, _please_.” As she curls her fingers, _drags_ , and Tao bows, begs.

And a breathy chant of “Joonmi I'm gonna—gonna—” as she thrashes. Too much. Almost enough. Joonmi rubs against her. Fingers soft and small but insistent, skilled

“Are you gonna come?” Joonmi asks in a reverent groan, pausing to lick side to side, collecting the moisture of Tao’s arousal on her tongue with a small sound of appreciation. Tao whimpers. “Like this? On my fingers? On my tongue?”

“Yes— _yes_ —please.”

Joonmi murmurs in approval, and Tao’s head collapses back onto the mattress as Joonmi works her fingers into her, sucks her clit into her mouth again. And it’s warm, wet, _relentless_ , the pleasure mounting mounting mounting in waves and waves until everything goes white. Tao sobs through release, screams Joonmi’s name as her orgasm crashes upon her. Her entire body snapping with it, bucking upwards towards the perfection of Joonmi’s mouth.

When she recovers, Joonmi’s fingers are still inside of her, still dragging it out as she jerks with the aftershocks, _aches_ in the afterglow.

Joonmi is crawling up to lay beside her, kissing her, and Tao can taste herself on her tongue, feel the warm, beautiful expanse of forbidden skin pressing tight against her as she allows herself to indulge. To _want_.

“Joonmi,” she whispers, tugging until the elder’s head is resting against her breast. Her eyes flutter close as Joonmi pets her bangs back once more, fingers whispering delicately along her skin. And Tao knows it was stupid. A mistake because she just wants to be her girlfriend. Wants her to love her back. “Joonmi,” she says again. But she doesn’t know how to continue. Doesn’t know if she’s allowed.

Joonmi kisses lazily along her collarbone. “What do you want?” Joonmi asks for the second time that night. “You’re so obnoxious sometimes.” Only there’s no heat, no malice, only affection. Just shy of what Tao craves. But maybe almost enough to hold her through.

“You,” Tao almost says, emboldened now that she doesn’t have to meet her gaze. “Pizza,” she answers instead. “Postcoital pizza.”

Joonmi smiles against her skin, hums. All soft affection and warm indulgence in the afterglow. She shifts, lips dragging up along Tao’s neck, across her cheek, up past her forehead. “I think I want to keep you,” Joonmi murmurs against her temple. “You’re so perfect. I think I do.”

And Tao, Tao can’t breathe.


End file.
